Premonition of a Boat Name...

"Out from the deep purple twilight of the autumn sky our visitor spread vast wings and descended..."Out from the deep purple twilight of the autumn sky our visitor spread vast wings and descended upon our close-hauled vessel." From S/V OSPREY logbook, 09.20.03 In June of 2005 I was in negotiations to purchase a 1987 Allied Yachts, S-2, 9.2C. It was named SOUTHWIND II. My vessel at that time was OSPREY, a Lyle Hess designed, 1978 Balboa 27’ under the keel of which I had logged nearly 7,000 miles in over the course of ten years. Catherine, my sailing partner had climbed aboard a few years earlier and had taken to sailing more than any other companion I’d cruised with and consequently I had taken to Catherine. The inclusion of her and now teenage daughter Clementine into the mix had been the perfect opportunity to indulge in upgrading to a larger vessel. We found the S-2 in pristine condition and were fortunate enough to strike a rapport with the sellers that resulted on my purchasing the vessel. Catherine and I agreed the boat name did not match our feelings or visions of this vessel but no immediate light bulbs went off in our collective heads so a list of possible names was developed. Some of you CW readers have gone down this road. I’ve read your stories, understood your sentiments and laughed at the rituals of re-naming boats that have been purportedly dredged up from the murk of time. Of possible names: I’m a Fire Chief who loves cruising on the water, any water. Thus the proposed name of… FIREWATER, a natural? Nope. The San Juan and Gulf Islands are still the home to rum smuggler stories of old, told around the winter’s hearth when the winds blow cold. I didn’t want to give my friends in the CG any ‘extra’ reasons to visit. I have an abiding respect and admiration for the native people of the Pacific NW and I turned to the Chinook jargon for boat naming inspiration; PAIACHUCK, my own mutation of two Chinook words to create FIREWATER in that language. Nope, can’t imagine saying that clearly over the VHF. SKOOKUM? Nope, seems like some manufacturer has already staked out that claim. My first sailing vessel many years ago was a Ranger 18. A great little boat with the tiniest of cuddy cabins. I had named it after its home port of Curlew. Of course the town of Curlew was named after the long-billed bird. The S/V OSPREY had come to me with her name already in place and it fit the vessel nicely so it stayed. Along the line of avian names we considered the MERGANSER, one of our favorite duck-like fish hunting birds. Mergansers oft times fish in packs, darting under the water to herd small fish to shore. Fish fear them, unfortunately I don’t have that in common with these small geese as my fishing record is at the best ‘thin’. I’ve always loved my mother’s name and almost went there, PATRICA AGNES. Unfortunately she hates her middle name of ‘Agnes’ so that would float like a led weight. Plus it didn’t really include the energy of my first mate in the naming process. Back to the drawing board… The list continued on, CHINOOK WIND (a foehn wind predominant west of the Rockies), FIREBIRD? Nah, the sooner I shed that firefighter skin the sooner I’ll retire and be full time cruising. And more, & more, & more… In fact we had possession of the boat for over a month and hadn’t come to conclusion on the name. Then it happened, and we knew it was right. Collectively Catherine and I went back to that night in the cockpit of OSPREY, when we were close-hauled, sailing into the autumn night of late September in 2003. Allow me to turn to OSPREY’S journal for a moment: 2205:hours, Saturday, 09.20.03, 52* winds 3 to 5 knots easterly, 10% cloud cover; at anchor Nancy Cove: “ After passing through the narrows and under the two bridges we picked up enough of an easterly to carry us NE while close-hauled. OSPREY was carrying along under full sail with a slight heel to port. Catherine and I were snuggled aft in the cockpit in our fleece & with a native blanket warding off a descending chill when out of the deep purple twilight of the autumn sky our visitor spread vast wings and descended upon our close-hauled vessel. The eagle’s bald head and under-tail white fan stood out against the darkening sky. It was large with at least a six foot wing span. And quite surprising to us both it was attempting to perch atop of our moving masthead. With heads craned upwards, we watched in fascination, neither of us making a sound. As this majestic bird sort of ‘back flapped’ its wings to stall its flight we heard the talons scraping on the masthead. Besides a stubby VHF antenna OSPREY carries an anemometer, and a light. Combined with the movement of the boat forward and the gentle heeling motion sideways no perch was to be found. All the while the sound of those huge wings just 28’ above our heads was amazing. The eagle fell off and we collectively caught out breath. But the show wasn’t over. Dimly we could see the bird circle us in the final loom of light. Again the eagle flew to the masthead. Again it back flapped and again we heard the talons on our gear aloft. This time it appeared the eagle had grasped the anemometer mount bar with one talon and was flapping its wings to stay in place. OSPREY heeled to a puff and the eagle gave up its tentative perch. It flew another circle around us and vanished into the darkness.” While we thought about the ‘night of the eagle’ as we both refer to it, we recalled a conversation of how, if OSPREY’S name hadn’t fit her so well, we would have considered changing it. The EAGLE, CHAK CHAK (in Chinook), is the name of many boats. We opted for the Latin version and chose AQUILA as the name of our new vessel. A name gifted to us on that enchanted night under sail several years ago… Foster Fanning 03.23.08